


Nuisal Vhenan.

by chertenuk



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bisexual Character, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mage Abuse and Oppression, Pining, Racism, Solas is Fen'Harel, Unrequited Love, i dunno really, just my elf inquis, who is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-10 09:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chertenuk/pseuds/chertenuk
Summary: The Elven mage Inquisitor. Mythal's puppet. A tool of what is yet to come.OrAthelora tries her best to save her world as a disregarded elf.





	1. Chapter 1

MARKED.

 

Athelora Lavellan. Dalish mage. And, recently, a prisoner to the Chantry. How did she even get here? She slightly remembers the fade as it swirled around her pulling her deeper and deeper into its chasms. Suffocated, it burned. Her throat burned.

 

Telamdys ra.

 

She coughed in pain, the force rattling the bindings clasped around her arms, the metal cold against her Dalish skin. Her head hung low eyebrows furrowing at the unwanted memories. As if her gods had it out for her, her left hand erupted with green energy as the screech of its power echoed the secluded room she was in. The four guards accompanying her shared a nervous look, their bodies were frozen in place at the unknown magic before them pulling their swords towards her in fear.

 

Before action could be taken, the ominous door in front of her slammed open welcoming two females. One equipped with a full body of armour, her hair short and face chiselled. She was pretty, Athelora would admit that, but the fury spurting out of her terrified the small elf and she flinched. The other was slightly taller, silent as lilac robes hugged her body comfortably. She was calmer than the other female and watched Athelora like a predator to its prey. Both human. Athelora noted that. The short haired girl circled behind Athelora, slowly.

 

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” Her accent was thick. Her sentence was sharp. “The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead.” Her circling continued. Athelora noticed how the woman was slightly hunched forward. “Except for you.” The words were laced with anger, Athelora swallowed thickly but remained silent. She heard the woman growl and began to reach for her left hand, Athelora was defenceless to stop her. “Explain this.” Her rough touch ignited the green energy to reappear, Athelora felt her insides convulse slightly.

 

“I.. can’t.” Athelora’s voice wavered unwillingly.

 

“What do you mean you ‘can’t’?”

 

“I don’t know what it is, or how it got there!” The armoured woman reached towards her chest pulling her elf body forward in pure fury.

 

“You’re lying!” She moves as if to strike until the robed woman pushes her back swiftly.

 

“We need her Cassandra!” The woman now revealed as Cassandra stepped back, her defence still high. Athelora frantically looked between the two women.

 

“Whatever you think I did, I’m innocent.” Her brow now stitched in a permanent glare.

 

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” The robbed woman kept her face neutral devoid from any emotions.

 

“I remember running. Things were chasing me. And then… a woman?”

 

“A woman?” Athelora’s head tired at the thought of the obscure memory.

 

“She reached out to me, but then…” Athelora struggled to continue with no hands to sooth her head, and she dropped it low in defeat from the prying eyes of the strangers. Cassandra, who had now appeared to her right, moved the robed woman backwards in a demanding manner.

 

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.” The stranger, now identified as Leliana, exited quietly not giving Athelora a second glance. The room went silent as Cassandra approached her frail body beginning to undo the chains locking Athelora to the ground.

 

"What did happen?" Athelora's eyes bore into Cassandra's face as she replaced the moncales for rope. Cassandra looked up to respond and noticed Athelora's different coloured iris' one a blue sea of worry, and the other a bright orange of fire. It was distracting. She quickly glanced away.

 

"It will be easier to show you."

 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

Cassandra dragged Athelora outside by her arm, her tight grip clenched as they approached the snowy wonderland outside. Athelora always liked the snow. A pure white that was undisturbed. Peaceful. And, for a second she felt safe. That was until she set her eyes on the sky, a green pool of horror, similar to that of her marked hand, had created a home in the grey sky. The sight made Athelora's stomach churn. Cassandra sensed Athelora's distaste and glanced from behind.

 

“We call it the Breach. It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.” As the snow fell on her tanned face, Athelora was hypnotised by the sight above her as the ever-growing, green horror continue to expand. Confusion clawed the inside of her mind, while fear set in her throat.

 

"An explosion can do that?” Her voice came out as a squeak.

 

“This one did. Unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world.” As if the breach heard Cassandra, it grew, only slightly, but enough for Athelora's mark to react. Her legs gave in at the pain it presented, she fell to the floor screaming loudly. Her hand, almost unconsciously, reached out to the breach but Athelora attempted to pull it back tight to her chest. Her breathing was rapid as panic set in. Cassandra kneeled to her level.

 

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you." Athelora's eyes darted towards Cassandra's somewhat sympathetic ones. "It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time."

 

Killing me?

 

"I-I understand." Her voice was deflated, the recent news causing torment inside her.

 

"Then...?"

 

Athelora's eyes shut, clenched in hopes to wake up from this dream. Once opened, they burned with a passion that Cassandra recognised instantly. “I’ll do what I can. Whatever it takes.” Cassandra pulled the elf to her feet, leading them to a town Athelora somewhat recognised.

 

As they passed villagers Athelora took in their scowls of disgust directed purely at her. Cassandra described how they mourned, their divine dead. Divine Justinia. A loved individual bringing peace to the Mages and Templars at the, now, destroyed Conclave. A cause Athelora knew all too well of. A small lump appeared in her throat as she bravely glanced towards the many faces they passed. Eventually, they arrived at their destination, the edge of town, the edge of safety. Her companion pulled out a dagger which Athelora visibly flinched back at. Subconsciously, a surge of magic warmed her fingers in an attempt to protect herself. This died down as she watched the woman roll her eyes and approach her once more to cut her binds. Hands-free, she stretched them. Her fingers cracked in anticipation.

 

"Come it's not far." The woman walked ahead of the elf leading them once more.

 

"Where are you taking me?"

 

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.” Cassandra brought out her weapon. "Open the gate! We are headed into the valley!" Her voice boomed towards the soldiers on guard alerting them to her presence, they stood tall reacting almost immediately. As Athelora and her new fighting partner turned left up to the winding path, she looked towards the dead bodies scattered out over the snow. Their blood tainted the snow, the clash of colours heavy. It was an uneasy sight. Her head spun as she jogged with Cassandra, the screams of the helpless calling for their god. The Maker. Athelora silently prayed to her own. That was until the breach grew again causing Athelora to fall to her knees again.

 

This is becoming a bad habit.

 

Her saviour, once again, pulled her to her feet with a slight hint of worry mixed with annoyance. She passed her a knowing look but continued their path. More and more bodies. The casualties increased the further they walked forward and her heart clenched. Soon enough they approached a bridge, five soldiers were placed on the further end a wagon in tow full of weapons. Athelora watched Cassandra prepare to call to her comrades until the bridge is hit by a flying rock. The impact so large it caused the bridge to break and burst into flames. They both fell in a frightful manner towards the frozen river below. Cassandra managed to pull herself up quickly as another rock fell, a pool of green light spits and turns creating a dreadful looking creature. It's hunched back figure and dead eyes screamed incoherently at Cassandra as she reached for her sword.

 

"Stay behind me!" Her sword headed straight for its head as she battled against its demonic powers, spurting burning liquid her way.

 

Athelora scrambled to her feet clumsily as she watched her partner battle with all her might, fear surrounded her as she watched the unidentifiable creature. Much to her luck, a second one formed right in front of her. It smelt of death, pure death. Athelora tried to contain her disgust as she frantically looked around for something to protect herself with. She noticed a mage staff poking out from the rubble of the once bridge, and she lunged for it immediately.

 

As she picked it up, she felt the familiar surge of magic course through her body, the fire burned around her fingers twisting and turning between the gaps. The sparks came to life instantly as she spun her staff around aggressively towards the creature. Spurts of fire erupted from its tip, soon turning the monster into nothing but a pile of ashes. Her breathing was heavy as the magic eased off around her, she held the staff in triumph as she glanced towards the dust pile below her. This was short lived however as when she glanced up, Cassandra's bloody, sharp weapon was pointed to her face. She stared at it then looked to Cassandra.

 

"Drop your weapon. Now." The elf frowned at her.

 

"Do you really think I need a staff to be dangerous," Cassandra growled disapprovingly at her retort.

 

"Is that suppose to reassure me?" With her anger came her thick accent, Athelora relaxed her grip on her weapon.

 

"I haven't used my magic on you yet." She smirked slightly the confidence new and strange due to the situation she was in. Cassandra sighed heavily.

 

"You're right." She lowered the sword respectfully.

 

"You don't need a staff. But you should have one." She rubbed her temples in distress as she glanced back at the rift. Athelora sheathed her new, flimsy weapon behind her back and slowly approached Cassandra's side. "I cannot protect you and I cannot expect you to be defenceless." Cassandra looked at her calmly. "I should remember that you agreed to come willingly." Silence entered their conversation until Cassandra huffed continuing their journey against the river.

 

Their travels were quiet, Cassandra too bold to speak up, Athelora too confused to ask the right questions. As they took a sharp right, the climbed up some staircases made from old brick.

 

"We're getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting." Cassandra wistfully exclaimed and Athelora frowned.

 

"Your soldiers?"

 

"Not in particular." Nearing a wall, Cassandra jumped down with no hesitation landing on both feet without injury. Athelora looked ahead, two blurry figures. One mage. One small man. She followed Cassandra to help the two men as she jumped from the wall, forward rolling to reduce impact. As quickly as she did that she whipped out her staff from her back, twisting it in a graceful manner as she aimed for the demon attempting to kill the dwarf. Once the final one died to Cassandra's sword, an elf man taller than her approached her in a hurried state.

 

"Quickly before more come through!" Without thought, the elf grabbed Athelora's arm tightly pulling it towards the green, wispy rift above them. Her mark reacted almost instantly as it surged to life push the rift shut. The male elf's grip only tighten forcing the magic to do its work, only until the rift was completely closed did he let go. Athelora was speechless. Feeling slightly faint, she gaped at her hand and looked towards the strange elf.

 

"What did you do?" Her words came out shaky and soft; she was in awe of what just happened. Her eyes sparkled as she relived the moment.

 

"I did nothing. The credit is yours." His smile was soft. His features somehow calm. Athelora remained silent as she outstretched her fingers observing the last remnants of magic. "Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake." He bent down during his explanation to pick up Athelora's forgotten staff. He placed it in his palm and opened it wide for her. She picked it up slowly now staring at him, fully taking in his features. "And it seems I was correct."

 

Cassandra's ears perked up. "Meaning it could also close the Breach itself." The elf averted his eyesight from the marked elf.

 

"Possibly." Solas slightly smirked his attention now back on Athelora. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

 

This is happening awfully fast.

 

"Good to know!" A new, unfamiliar voice invaded their conversation. "Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever." The dwarf chuckled at his own joke, a warm smile appearing on his face. "Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller and occasionally unwelcome tagalong." He winked at Cassandra and she scowled back.

 

"Well..Varric. It's good to meet you." She rolled out her ‘well’ teasingly as she eyed the dwarf. The presence of someone else approached her right side.

 

"You may reconsider that stance, in time." Athelora raised an eyebrow at the elf and looked back to Varric.

 

"Awww. I'm sure we'll become great friends in the valley Solas." The elf, named Solas shook his head. Cassandra annoyed, pushed paced Athelora and approached Varric menacingly.

 

"Absolutely not! Your help is appreciated, Varric but..." It was if she struggled to say his name, it fell off of her tongue and she glared at him. Varric contended her glare confidently.

 

"Have you been in the valley lately Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me." Varric had a way with words, Athelora would give him that. Cassandra groaned in disgust and moved away from the dwarf below her. Varric huffed at the victory. The female elf felt the hand of Solas on her shoulder.

 

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I'm pleased to see that you still live." Solas seemed calm, at peace in his surroundings. Something about this made her uneasy but she shrugged that feeling away.

 

Varric, without glancing up from cleaning his bow, dryly laughed. "He means. 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept'." Athelora gasped quietly as Solas confidentially (and proudly) looked at her.

 

"Ma serannas." Solas smiled knowingly in approval.

 

"Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process." He averted his gaze from her to confront Cassandra. Athelora was just glad to have another elf around her.

 

"Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen." Solas cleared his throat. "Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power." His words alerted Athelora back to her hand and she subconsciously raised it in recognition. Cassandra had been watching her during this and looked back knowingly at Solas.

 

"Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly." Solas nodded and once more, Cassandra lead the way down the bank ahead. Varric perked up with a smile on his face as he turned towards the path.

 

"Well, Bianca's excited!" Athelora watched him raise his crossbow in excitement as he followed behind Cassandra and Solas. Athelora stood there silently as she watched her new group walk ahead, looking back down at her left hand, she noticed the mark lightly surging with green energy causing her arm to sting. She shook her head and walked forward.

 

Who the hell calls their weapon Bianca?


	2. HAVEN.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere green. Somewhere white.

“You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here?” During the journey to the forward camp Athelora had managed to become distracted by the people walking with her. She wasn’t use to having a human or even a dwarf in her presence, it was fairly exciting. So when Solas hit her with this unsuspected question it reminded her about her orders sent from the clan, her clan where she was acting as a spy. Athelora briefly looked at the elvhen to her left.

 

“What do you know of the Dalish?” Her answer while aggressive averted Solas from the topic at hand. He grimaced slightly and broke the eye contact.

 

“I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion.”

 

Your?

 

It had not occurred to her at one point that this elf could be of the city kind, something she despised strongly. Putting away her personal beliefs for one second she scowled at him and his distant response.

 

“We share the same blood, Solas.”

 

“The Dalish I met felt… differently on the subject.” The latter quieter than the rest Solas passed Athelora at the top of the stairs they were climbing. He avoided eye contact as he did whereas she refused to diminish her glare. Varric cringed uncomfortably as he approached her.

 

“Can’t you elves just play nice for once?” Athelora readied herself to retort back at the silver tongued man until the mark on her hand flared. Varric jumped back in surprise, eyes wide as he saw the magic up close and personal Athelora’s breathing sharpened but she pushed herself forward on the path.

 

“Shit, are you alright?” Athelora ignored him.

 

From there on the party encountered more rifts and more demons. Athelora became particularly confident in her new power as it absorbed, and closed, the rifts. Where they saved lives the bodies on the road doubled the amount of victims from the catastrophe at hand. Their corpses slowly rotting away beneath her feet. She had never felt more helpless. Soon enough they approached the forward camp littered with injured and disgruntled guards, each as helpless as the rest. Cassandra burst through the doors like a unstoppable force, the sight of well armoured individuals shocked some while others were currently being sucked dry of hope oblivious to the group. The Seeker advanced towards Leilanna and a man Athelora recognised to be off the Chantry.

 

“Ah, here they come.” The man spat.

 

“You made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is–”

 

“I know who she is. As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.” A few guards prepared themselves but Cassandra waved her hand dismissively at them.

 

“You are not in charge here Chancellor.”

 

“And neither are you Seeker!” Their words formed a thick tension in the air and Leilanna looked towards Athelora in distress. So, she spoke up.

 

“So none of you are actually in charge here.” Athelora questioned an eyebrow raised at the people surrounding her. It stayed quiet and got awkward fast. Cassandra cleared her throat.

 

“We need to stop this before it’s too late.” She turned and pointed to the mountain above them. “We must get to the temple. It’s the quickest route.”

 

“It’s not safe.” Leilanna warned.

 

“But the quickest yes?” Athelora chirped in unexpectedly, it went silent again while Cassandra nodded slowly.

 

All eyes on me then.

 

“Then we take the temple route, we need to get to the Breach before any more damage is done.”

 

“Who put you in charge!?” Chancellor Roderick shouted in a panicked, hurried tone. Varric laughed loudly at the Chancellor as he hit the female elfs arm.

 

“I think she just did.”

 

————————————————-

 

Climbing to the temple was a tough job, however Athelora was determined, she had made herself known amongst those who called her a murderer and wanted to prove herself right. She took lead as they passed through the temple, Cassandra hot on her heel with Varric and Solas in tow. The empty, dark hallways unnerved the party as whatever lurking around the corner would get the jump on them in seconds. Solas helpfully produced a soft, white light in aid of helping them navigate the twists and turns. No words were shared during their travel as with each passing step they neared their possible death. But this was apart of the job and neither one of them were ready to cower just yet.

 

Exiting the temple allowed for fresh air to invade Athelora’s lungs, she breathed in deeply as though this may be the last time to appreciate the path she walked. They continued their winding path from the ruins they previously left and soon enough the smell of burning corpses suffocated Athelora. The disgusting smell warning those who came near of the death it reeked.

 

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes.” Solas’ tone was dull as he reflected on the sight before him.

 

“What’s left of it.” Varric muttered as his gloved hands slid over the burnt brick of the once glorious temple.

 

“That is where you walked out the Fade and our soldiers found you. They said a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.” Athelora took in Cassandra’s words silently her mind ran at a hundred miles per hour, processing everything in her surroundings. Templar and Mage bodies scattered together as one. As they delved deeper into the temple they turned a corner centring them right at the core of the breach. Athelora’s neck cracked as she angled her head to look above her at the looming threat. Cassandra turned as Leilanna entered with a few dozen archers and warriors of their broken Chantry army. Solas silently slithered next to Athelora’s left side.

 

“I’m not sure how to even start getting up to that thing.” She muttered to herself.

 

“No. This rift was the first and is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.” His words distant as he stared in awe at the crystal rift in front of him.

 

“For Mythal’s sake this better work.” She was tired as she called to her god, Solas raised an eyebrow at the use of an elvhen god being mentioned. Athelora walked down the path to the right avoiding any of the dead. Her new followers on her heel. They passed red lyrium sucking the life out of its surroundings drawing you in further, and further. Athelora payed no mind to it and neither did she pay any mind to her companions discussing the future events. She was nervous.

 

What if it doesn’t work?

 

Athelora brushed it off quickly any second thoughts were pushed from her mind as she stepped closer to the rift. A memory of the past appeared from thin air in front of her group. A demon was threatening the Divine. Athelora entering as a mistake. Then green, a big blast of green energy that surged throughout the room. And just as it started, it was gone.

 

“You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

 

“I-I dont remember!” Her head whipped back towards the human and back around to the rift as it began pulsing with unhealthy energy. It was preparing and as each surge increased with power, the group wearily moved backwards. In a final burst, a monsterous looking demon the size of a house appeared from the rift. Roaring in anticipation, a blue power erupted out of him as it’s eyes set on Athelora. Shakily, she reached for her weapon, spinning it with skill and thrusting it through the ground. Her figure burst with fierery mana shielding her from the monster.

 

“We must kill it to close the breach!” Solas’ voice was heard faintly but as the blood rushed to her ears Athelora could hear nothing but the battlefield. Cassandra charged passed her heading straight for the beast before them as Varric shot practised arrows into its chest. Solas and Athelora stood near each other as magic flew out of them in quick paced attacks.

 

It was tough. The beast refused to let up so easily at their somewhat co-ordinated attack. Eventually, however, in a final desperate swing, it fell to its knees face first into the dirty ground below. A large thud echoed throughout the arena and nothing but pants of exhaustion and the rift was heard. The female elf looked onwards at the demon beneath her feet as she panted heavily, a headache soon forming. She was hypnotised, she had never seen anything like this before and it was worrying.

 

“Prisoner!” Cassandra alerted Athelora back to the task at hand, their eyes caught each other’s. Athelora realised her task as she forced herself to acknowledge the rift before her.

 

This could be it.

 

Without hesitation, she lifted her hand towards the rift and felt it react with the all so familiar green energy. It swivelled around her body sucking her mana dry and leaving her with no energy left. She screamed. Oh did she scream. A bloodcurdling scream that ripped her companions ears out from the inside, burning into their brains a memory not to be forgotten. As the rift began to slowly shut, Athelora felt her knees giving in and she feared for the worse. And then a bang. The rift closed.

 

Before it went dark, Athelora looked at the sky seeing less green than before and smiled weakly.

 

Then she fell.

 

———————————————

 

Mages were known for dreaming. Deep, realistic dreams that encompassed their happiest desire or worst nightmares. As an elf she was particular to dreaming about the woods and nature, allowing the ground to hold her down in place and reminding her that she was safe. Nature entered her nose and eased her mind as thought it was it’s own being. Within those dreams she would travel the furthest lands or even relax with her clan. Each ended happily.

 

This, however, was not one of those times.

 

As she traversed the rich ground, she felt something watching her. A many red, demonic eyes flared at her every movement, while they presented no immediate danger, they watched her sway through the trees. She slowed her steps and heightened her guard. These eyes were attached to the grand, proud body of a grey wolf. The wolf’s fur was aged with time as the whisps of hair struggled against the muscular body they acompied. As she turned to look at it, it would disappear; the familiar sight of the fade falling behind it.

 

To ease her breathing, she closed her eyes and counted in elvhen. Once reaching a high enough number that would impress even the most elder of elvhes, she reopened her eyes to be encountered with a familiar staircase and figure at the top. Without her own consent, she ran and fumbled up the stairs. As she furthered the top, her body began to scar up, scraping against the rough edges of rock. She bled and bled as the cuts got deeper and deeper into her pristine skin. The figure was getting closer and closer, it’s face skewed, completely unidentifiable and it’s body somewhat faint. It’s hand reached out protectively and as she neared the final step, she reached out with all her might only to be grasped by the throat. Green hands clutched at different parts of her body and dragged her down the stairs she recently braved. They suffocated her as she fell further and further and further and further and-

 

A cold sweat. A nightmare so horrifying she forgot what it was like to dream. Her eyes flew open and her body jostled in a frantic motion. Her breathing was uncomfortably steady however, the anxiety the dream had once brought was gone in almost a instant. A strange smell of elfroot mixed with blood invaded her nose and a bad taste stained her tongue. She blinked multiple times as she glanced to her surroundings, attempting to take in the sight of it around her.

 

Where am I?

 

Nothing here was recognisable; Not even the clothes she was wearing on her body. But before she could begin to comprehend what was happening, the small stature of a elvhen woman entered through the door. She failed to notice Athelora awake and conscious and as she did she screeched a high pitched squeal in surprise at the sight. She dropped the items she was holding and jumped back clumsily. She stuttered incoherently and used her hands to defend herself, Athelora frowned.

 

“S-S-Ser! I did not know you were awake, I am so sorry you faithfulness.” She kneeled beneath the other elf and Athelora, immediately, felt uncomfortable at the gesture. She pushed her legs over the side of the bed and attempted to sturdy herself againsta table beside it. Not realising her apparent weak body, she stumbled and fell. Luckily the elf, who had secretly been watching her, stood to her feet and with quick reflexes, catched her before she could fall to the ground. Athelora grabbed at the brunette elf’s shoulders to steady herself. In a awkward two minutes, the new elf managed to help Athelora regain her posture and ability to stand without a guide.

 

“Thank you..” Her words trailed off as she looked above to the slightly taller elf. The elf, who was currently avoiding any possible eye contact, responded.

 

“Elhora.”

 

“Elhora.” Athelora tested the new word against her lips, her dalish accent thick as she spoke the name. Elhora blushed. “Where am I?” Athelora walked towards a mirror found in the corner of the room, Elhora watched her with twitchy eyes.

 

“H-Haven Ser.” Athelora frowned in the mirror. She stayed silent as she observed her white, messy hair. She attempted to style it as it fell short above her ears, no matter what she did, it stayed in the same fashion. Her orange and blue iris’ stared back at her as she noticed the pink blush against her skin that rested beneath her Vallaslin of Mythal. Her lips did not appear as youthful as her skin however, as she noticed the chapped features on them.

 

Ir tel’him.

 

“What is Haven Elhora?” Athelora’s words were thick with curiosity and warmth as she attempted to ease the tension apparent in the other elf. Elhora quickly looked away when the white haired elf glanced at her in the mirror, fearing she appeared rude for staring.

 

“It’s a safe place, for those affected by the Breach.” The Breach. A flush of memories came back in a haze. She rubbed her temples in distress. When she didn’t speak. Elhora, with a new found bravery, spoke up. “You’ve been out for 3 days. We-I mean, people feared the worst.”

 

3 days was a long time, she even wondered how they hadn’t given up on her during that time period but brushed that thought aside. She turned back around and Elhora stood up straighter.

 

“May I ask..” Elhora’s heart caught in her throat all too suddenly. “Why are you so nervous?” The idea was so obscure to Elhora that she nearly snorted in response, she blushed at her near rude moment. Elhora began to preoccupy herself with picking up the herbs she’d previously dropped to the ground.

 

“How-How could I not be? You’re the Herald of Andraste. The chosen to save us all.” The name ‘Andraste’ tasted bad in Athelora’s mouth but she allowed the elf to continue her explanation. “You closed the Breach-Well nearly closed it.” Elhora’s eyes suddenly widened. “T-That sounded r-r-rude. You saved u-us all that d-day and p-people are f-forever g-g-grateful.” Athelora grimaced.

 

It’s not even shut.

 

“For Mythal’s sake.” Athelora sighed heavily.

 

“Oh god I’ve messed up haven’t I?” Elhora mumbled to herself in a panicked state of mind, her hands shook.

 

“Elhora, breathe.” Athelora approached her slowly, hands out reassuringly in front of her. “You shouldn’t regard me so highly, I am of your blood.” Elhora took in a sharp breath. Suddenly the door slammed open, a fully armoured man appeared. A glare striking his rough features.

 

“For fucks sake, you stupid knife-ears-“ His raging eyes landed on Athelora, her own now pure with disgust. A scowl invaded her features as her blood grew thick with distaste for the man and his.. colourful vocabulary. Elhora gasped loudly and, for the second time that day, jumped back clumsily. The guard, who may have previously been a threat to the skittish elf, was now nothing but a pool of fear upon the sight of the ‘Herald’. He stumbled with his words attempting to say something of any use.

 

“H-H-Herald!?”

 

“What.” Where it was neither a real question, anger plagued the word she spat out. She took a step forward, he took one backwards nearly tripling down the stairs to the door he had entered so firecely. Without another word he turned and ran.

 

Athelora, now conscious to her heavy breathing and clenched fists, eased herself. She looked over her shoulder to the wide eyed Elhora.

 

“Woah.” The sound light and filled with pure amazement. Athelora smirked. Elhora shook her head and blushed at the look on Athelora’s face. “That was- Oh my!” Elhora gasped in a sudden burst. “You need to g-go see Seeker Cassandra.” The name was familiar to Athelora but any attempt to remember the face was accompanied with hazy memories. Athelora nodded.

 

“Lead the way, Elhora.” With some shock still lingering on her face, she nodded dreamily and absent mindedly leaded the way out the room. As they left the wooden cabin, Athelora was returned with the sight of snow covering every crevice of the small camp before her. She noticed curious eyes dancing over her figure as the sun blinded her own. Pushing down the stairs, she followed Elhora’s path towards a Chantry building standing tall before them. Athelora struggled to ignore how people’s stares contained pride mixed with fear and their whispers painted pictures of her heroics she barely remembered. Moreover, she noticed the features of a bald elf looking onwards in her direction, his sharp, icy blue eyes caught hers amongst the growing crowd and she failed to break the eye contact. He was stood by a human male, who was now talking at him rather than previously with him. Distracted, she nearly fell on the elf guiding her that had suddenly stopped in her path. She broke the unwavering eye contact and looked to the decorative door before her.

 

“Seeker Cassandra and the others are in the w-war room.” Elhora’s gaze didn’t leave the doors even as the Chantry members (that were littered around them) gazes focused on her and Athelora. “They’re in the door at-at the end of the corridor.” Athelora nodded.

 

“You’ve been a massive help, Elhora.” Athelora was filled with pure gratefulness for the elf who had been somewhat welcoming. Elhora looked down at Athelora and held the eye contact, a small smile appeared at her face. Elhora nodded and turned to towards the direction of where Solas was situated. Athelora watched her walk away much like a mouse and didn’t fail to notice how Solas’ gaze was still burning into her head. She glanced at him with the rise of an eyebrow and swore in Elvhen, pushing the door before her without looking back

 

This simple gesture of pushing a door set her fate that snowy day.


	3. HINTERLANDS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the hinterlands is a place of beautiful forestry and midnight confessions.

Edging towards the door at the end of the corridor, Athelora recognised familiar voices that shouted against each other. She stared at the door and grimaced slightly, their voices grew increasingly angrier as they battled to be the loudest. Athelora lifted her shaky hand and pressed it against the door, the wood rough and patchy. Pushing through, she caught the attention of 3 individuals. Their faces barely recognisable to her yet she sensed the familiarity around them. The man growled loudly and dramatically pointed at her.

 

“Chain her. I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.” Flecks of spit fell on Athelora’s body even at the distance they had between each other. She groaned as the guards approached her small body.

 

“Disregard that, and leave us.” The armoured woman clenched her eyes as she waved the guards away, the two guards obeyed immediately, saluting and left the room with curious features. She walked towards the table placed in the middle of the room as the man stormed to her right side, his steps echoed in the gloomy room.

 

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”

 

Seeker Cassandra!

 

Athelora clocked onto her surroundings as she observed the tall woman sigh heavily, who then turned her head towards him with a glare.

 

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.” She sounded tired, her words laced with exhaustion as she barely fought back against the chantry male. The cloaked woman, who Athelora faintly remembered to be Leilana, leaned against the wall behind her as her eyes trained on each one of them.

 

“I did what I could in so little time and preparation.” Athelora glanced away, scratching the outside of her right ear nervously. “I’m glad to have returned with my life.” The man snorted loudly and folded his thin, frail arms against his chest.

 

“And what a confidence that is.” His stare penetrated into Athelora’s nervous eyes. Cassandra shook her head.

 

“Have a care, Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we face.” Cassandra lifted her head and her eyes glossed over to Athelora, a pure look of warmth laid within them. Leilana pushed herself off the wall she had once leant on and set her eyes on the Chancellor.

 

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live.” She raised a anticipating eyebrow at the Chancellor who proceed to gasp and sputter in surprise. Athelora attempted not to laugh at the dramatic movements of the Chantry member and his extreme facial expressions.

 

“I am a suspect?”

 

“You, and many others.”

 

“But not the elf.” Athelora frowned. Cassandra straightened her posture as she twisted her body to reply to the Chancellor.

 

“I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to her for help.” Cassandra pointed towards Athelora and the Chancellor frantically looked between the two. Athelora shrugged at him.

 

“So her survival, that thing on her hand – all a coincidence?” His arms flailed in the air as he questioned the Seeker. Subconsciously, Athelora raised her left hand and felt it slightly react at the mention of its presence. She pushed it down quickly.

 

“Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.” The elf, not so subtly, pulled a face at the mention of the ‘The Maker’. There was no hiding it at this point. Athelora despised any idea of ‘The Maker’, anything to do with Andraste was one big lie to her and she refused to believe anything any human had come up with. Humans were bad news, this had always been the case and remained to be as she considered the position she was in now. Templars, Mages.. the Chantry? Humans. However as she pulled a face, Cassandra raised a brow in curiosity.

 

“You do realise, I’m an elf. A Dalish elf.” Athelora half smirked at the annoyed Human before her who proceed to roll her eyes.

 

“I have not forgotten.” Jokes wasn’t this woman’s strongest suit. Athelora’s smirk dropped and she huffed in response. “No matter what you are or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.” Athelora failed to calculate a response, where the woman lacked humour she made up in her way with words and Athelora silently praised this.

 

“The Breach remains and your mark is our only hope of closing it.” Leilana chirped in. Athelora attempted to resist the urge of raising her hand as she felt it pulse again. Cassandra turned from the table and towards a bookcase behind her in the shadows.

 

“This is not for you to decide.” The Chancellor remarked, his opinion still being highly disregarded amongst everyone present. Cassandra reappeared with a large, black book in her hands, an eye designed on the front in silver. She slammed it against the table making the Chancellor jump in fright.

 

“You know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” Cassandra backs the Chancellor up against the wall, poking him in the chest as she continues. Any strength or determination in him had left in seconds. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order with or without your approval.” Cassandra proceeded to stare him down as the feeble man cowered beneath her. He shakily huffed and left the room in a state of distress. Athelora watched him walk out impressed by the Seeker.

 

“This is the Divine's directive: Find those who will stand against the chaos. Rebuild the Inquisition of old. We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.” One thing Athelora noticed about this woman was her talent in hiding her emotions. Her words expressed a distressing matter and yet she kept a straight face with not even the slight hint of hesitation. Cassandra pressed her hands against the table.

 

“But we have no choice: We must act now. With you at our side.”

 

“Mythal, how did I get mixed up in this.” Athelora pressed a hand against her temple and rubbed it slightly. She was stuck. Trapped in a Human affair. Yet she had no safe way out, leaving Haven’s safety would surely result in a bounty on her head but staying could change the course of her life, forever. However something yearned inside of Athelora for adventure, for something new, something refreshing. She could help others first hand and possibly explore the world further than she ever had before. Free from the binds of her clan yet attached to the idea of comfort, it was a hard decision. She knew what the answer was. “I’ll help for now.”

 

Cassandra slightly smiled and Leilana released a silent breath. A lot of work was ahead of them.

 

——————————————————-

 

The days that passed endured countless hours of hard, monotonous work. Paperwork, choices, rebuilding. Athelora had never accomplished so much in so little time and yet she felt as though she’d done so little. She had met her new advisors: Cullen and Josephine who worked alongside Leilana and Cassandra. Each one held a title so powerful that it intimidated Athelora, while she was acting as leader and still barred the dreaded title of ‘Prisoner’. Alongside that, only few had regarded her as Herald during those days. While she disliked the title she much preferred it to the others people encountered her with.

 

‘A knife-ear.’ ‘A (soon to be) dead Dalish.’ ‘Scum.’

 

The Chantry had abandoned them and Athelora was now left with the task of finding a Chantry member, by the name of Mother Giselle, in the ravaged Hinterlands. Haven was grasping at straws as it attempted to stay a float amongst its growing enemies. Number one on their hit list? None other than the marked elf who roamed its grounds. However Athelora had grown a liking to the power she held, she enjoyed helping others, she enjoyed giving a home to those in need and she enjoyed the sense of achievement once something was completed successfully.

 

This is what she wrote to her Hahren in a lengthy letter to her clan. She missed them dearly and attempted to write to them every week or so. They updated her on their travels while she informed them of significant happenings in the political matters at hand. Finishing the letter before her, she placed her quill back in its ink bottle and leaned back on the feet of her chair. The swinging motion rocked the floor boards and they creaked and groaned. Her eyes glazed outside the window, observing the snow she had become all so familiar with these past days. It was calm for a few moments and for this she thanked Mythal.

 

As she inhaled deeply, she was interrupted by a sharp pain in her left arm and felt the tearing of skin. Desperately, she pulled the cloth up her left arm as her right hand danced over the anchor shakily. It was pulsing violently and she failed to stay calm as the green energy spread through her veins up her arm. Forcefully, she clutched it tightly and muffled a scream of pain. The random surge began to die down but the slight pain remained as well as the green magic. In her best interest, she decided to find Solas as she remembered him previously helping her in a situation similar. She pulled herself from the chair and hurriedly pulled the sleeve of her t-shirt down to hide the anchor as not to alert others. She weakly pulled a coat over her shoulders and opened the door to the outside world.

 

Making her way to Solas’ cabin was a challenge within itself. Many locals attempted to make light conversation with the elf as she stumbled against the snow. She would smile faintly and respond in quick sentences. Luckily for the elf, Varric was not present at his usual camp fire spot. Just the remnants of books and writing utensils were scattered over the ground. Athelora continued moving however as she passed the tavern and approached the stairs to his cabin, she felt herself grow weaker. As she climbed the said stairs, she tripped on the second one up and fell face forward into the fluffy snow. Her face now bright red with blush, she pushed herself up and attempted to regain her previous balance. People were staring but she couldn’t care less as the pain increased, now not just in her left arm but all

over.

 

She limped towards his door and knocked with her right hand, quickly returning it to her pained left arm. Solas was prompt, soon after the knock he appeared in front of her as calm and neutral as ever. His eyes drifted over her body in curiosity as he noticed the wet patches of lingering snow over her clothes. They then rested on her arm which she was clutching ever so tightly, he noticed a green tint under the white cloth and frowned slightly. She was panting slightly and the redness on her face refused to die down.

 

“S-Solas. I need your h-h-help.” He nodded quickly and welcomed her inside. As she entered, he pushed the door closed in a swift fashion and moved to a desk across the room. Athelora stood awkwardly in the middle of the cabin, she currently resided in what seemed to be his living space. A fire was currently sparked and radiated a warm energy that Athelora welcomed, it crackled quietly and sat before a few chairs and a table. The table was neatly set and contained an array of books and papers, one book laid open and contained pure elvish writing. Athelora couldn’t make out any of it as it was of an ancient tongue. Her attention then averted to a beautiful painting that rested against the wall, it contained a forest scene and a Halla resided amongst it. Contained and home. Athelora’s heart ached slightly.

 

Her sight then rested on Solas’s back, who was hurriedly making something on a potions desk. His hands moved rhythmically, as if it was a song and dance to him. Bookshelves full of a range of literature set themselves around the potions table to his right and on his left she noticed his bed. His bed was tidy and Athelora envied the sight as she contrasted it against the memory of her disheveled bed. However before she could begin to completely put herself down and compare each nook and cranny of his cabin to her own, he suddenly swivelled around holding a wooden bowl.

 

“Sit down on the bed.” His words commanded her and she obliged. She stumbled towards the bed and sat down attempting not to ruin the non-creased bed. Her arm pulsed, reminding her why she was here, and she hissed in pain. Solas kneeled before her. Carefully, he pushed the concoction to her lips and stared into her eyes. “Drink. It’ll subside the pain.” Without objection, she allowed Solas to push the bowl against her chapped lips. He lifted it as she drank the liquid in one go and once she was finished she squinted in distaste. The liquid burned against her throat and tasted much like dirt yet it eased the pain and she felt any tension in her escape.

 

Solas hummed in approval as he set his sights on her left arm. He grabbed it gently, his fingers grazing against the rough skin and closed his eyes. Athelora watched him intently. His breathing slowed and she felt his grasp tighten slightly. Goosebumps arose as she felt him stroke her skin, trailing the outline of her scars from the anchor’s power. Magic from Solas seeped out of his fingertips, a blue, fluttery magic that worked around her entire arm; Cocooning it protectively. Athelora felt the anchors energy slither back into its place within her palm and watched the green magic disappear slowly. Then she felt Solas’ magic ease off. Her eyes fluttered back to his face and she observed him hum once more. He was successful, of course he was, but she had never guessed the process to be so calming.

 

Solas opened his eyes, they drooped tiredly over her arm as he looked at his achievement. They then returned to hers that were hypnotised before him. He smirked slightly and raised any eyebrow at her trance. She blinked once. Then twice. A blush furiously appeared on her face, a deep crimson red that alerted her to her (somewhat) weird state. Her arm escaped his touch as she quickly swiped it away. Shaking her head, she looked at her now normal arm and smiled in approval.

 

“T-Thank you, Solas.” Clutching it against her chest, she pulled the cloth back down hiding what there once was. Solas stood up and dusted his hands. Athelora, not as smoothly, stood from his bed and cracked her arm. The sound echoed the room as a slightly awkward tension set in. Solas placed his hands behind his back. Athelora had then noticed the height difference in this particular moment of time. Solas was an elf with the height of a buff, 6 foot human and she giggled to herself. Solas raised an eyebrow.

 

“Something funny Lavellan?” Athelora’s mouth grew dry and she silently told herself off at her informal behaviour.

 

“Ir Abelas. Mind my rudeness but you may be the tallest elf i’ve ever encountered.” Her bash personality broke from her shy demeanour. Solas didn’t react as such but just shrugged lightly.

 

“Maybe you’re just small.” Solas grabbed the bowl from its place that was previously beside her and he turned to place it back on the potion table. Athelora was staring, again. He turned. “Is there something else you need Lavellan?” Another eyebrow raised however this one was less playful.

 

“S-Sorry, no.”

 

“Stop apologising.”

 

“Sorry. I mean! Not sorry?” She fumbled over her words embarrassing herself further. The room went quiet again. “I should probably leave you be.” Quickly turning she headed for the door before remembering something. “Oh!” She span around and noticed Solas was watching her still. “We set out for the Hinterlands early tomorrow.” Solas nodded.

 

“Looking forward to it.”

 

————————————————-

 

The Hinterlands was a rough place. The remmenants of apostate Mages and rebel Templars tainted the land as fires grew and spread across the fertile soil. Burnt down homes. Demon wolves. Separated families. It was a mess which Athelora worked at containing and maintaining. Particularly restoring ‘The Crossroads’ a small village torn apart by the war. This village also held Mother Giselle a, forward thinking Chantry member working at healing wounds of refugees with the help of other Mages.

 

Athelora roamed the land doing small errands and closing rifts and as the night closed in the day, she felt her exhaustion catch up with her. As her little group approached the Dusklight Camp, Mother Giselle in tow, she dramatically collapsed against the bench around the brightly lit campfire. A large sigh escaped her lips as she allowed content to fill her. Tiredly, she pushed her gear off her worn out body and listened to her staff fall against the rocky ground. She closed her eyes and smiled.

 

“And here I was thinking elves were skilled travellers.” The gruff voice of Varric teased her and she opened one eye to see him cleaning Bianca. She huffed.

 

“I was more into books than adventures like my fellow Dalish.” Athelora yawned and cracked the bones in her body, they ached in response. Varric placed his weapon carefully inside the tent he was occupying and returned holding a hoard of papers and a single pen. He moved to sit on the bench beside her. At this moment, Cassandra was removing the plates of armour that stuck to her figure and Athelora felt her eyes drift over her form. It was distracting to see someone so physically fit. Averting her eyes quickly she looked to Solas who had placed his staff gently on the side and was moving to grab a book from one of his many satchels. He sat on a bench directly opposite, lost in the book he was reading.

 

“Tell me Paws..” Athelora looked up as she recognised the nickname Varric used for her. “What did you do in your clan?”

 

“Why do you wanna know?” Athelora questioned and Varric waved the papers at her.

 

“Sad, nostalgic tales are always good for inspiration.” Athelora smiled at him then looked away thoughtfully. Memories flooding her mind.

 

“I was first to our Hahren... the clan keeper.” She corrected her Elvhen words to Common as she spoke to the child of stone. “I was always interested in exploring Dalish history, even as a child i’d much preferred the comfort of books than the forestry like Hunters.” She distantly looked towards the nature that surrounded them. “I was trained to think like a leader, understand the inner workings of a Dalish. So many thoughts, so many ambitions, so many emotions compacted into one elf and to understand each of a clan? It was a daunting task.”

 

“Let me guess, you became the bad-ass rebel elf of your clan?” Varric mused slightly, scribbling down notes. Athelora chuckled.

 

“Me? A rebel?” She continued to laugh. “I had dedicated my life Mythal, to love and protect those around me. It was my duty to understand my fellow clan members and to disregard that would’ve been... wrong.” Frowning she stared into the blazing fire before her, Varric stared at her and contemplated his next words. Cassandra had finished stretching and became interested in the conversation before her, the idea of learning about the Herald excited her. Wether Solas was listening or not, Athelora couldn’t tell, as his nose was still stuck in his book.

 

“You don’t sound too confident Paws.” Athelora glanced at Varric.

 

“That’s what’s funny Varric.” She began to move her hands to represent her speech in frantic motions. “I had never been more confident in my life. To lead my clan was my mere purpose as first to the clan keeper, to guide them to safety and all the while gaining new knowledge of our people.” Her hands dropped. “Yet something nagged inside me constantly, day to day. Something was wrong.. about.. it all.” She paused and sighed. “And I, still, to this day don’t know what it was.”

 

“Maybe you reject the idea of conformity.” Cassandra’s thick accent slid into the conversation, Varric’s and Athelora’s eyes looked to her. Athelora shrugged.

 

“Maybe so.” She replied unconvincingly. A comfortable silence surrounded each of them. Varrics writing and the fire’s hums filling the empty air. Absent mindlessly, Athelora cranked her necked to the side which brought light onto a faint scar etched into her skin. Varric noticed it and thought it to be of a creatures as it well represented the claws of a beast. Three lines. It looked painful.

 

“Where did you get that scar?” Athelora’s ears perked up and she subconsciously rubbed her neck where it lay.

 

“Ironically the paw of a bear.” She snorted lightheartedly even as the pain of the memory struck her. Cassandra’s eyebrows raised.

 

“Take no offence Lavellan, but I don’t see

you.. fighting.. bears.” Struggling to get the words out she flailed her hands in the air in an attempt to aid herself. Athelora smiled as she traced the lines of her scar, out of the corner of her eye she could faintly make out Solas’ watchful eyes rested silently on her neck.

 

“None taken.” She inhaled deeply. “The scar was of my own fault.”

 

“Why so?” Strangely enough this voice belonged to Solas, whose book now rested neatly next to him. He had a leg crossed dominantly, his eyes calm as though a peaceful sea was trapped within them. Athelora’s gaze set on him as her own curiosity irked her.

 

“During our travels along the Free Marches a da’len.. a young boy had began acting up. He was notorious for it.” Athelora laughed briefly. “He was called Felhen, a boy who swore by the name of Fen’Harel to scare his friends but also a boy who struggled to sleep at night to the same trickster.” She began to look distantly off into the wildlife as the fire crackled in anticipation. “On this particular day, he decided to trick our Hahren and attempt to steal the remaining rations for the night. He failed, obviously.”

 

“Why did he want to steal the rations?” Varric didn’t look up from his furious writing.

 

“I don’t know to this day, I suspect a way to prove himself however I think it may be something much simpler.. like being hungry.” She hummed slightly then continued. “Anyways, I was told to keep an eye on the boy and we were sent to the back of the group; So he could stay out of trouble. Through this time he warmed up to me, the da’len even went as far to trust me with stories he sweared never to utter.” Athelora took in a shaky breath. “He must’ve seen me as a motherly figure, those who devoted themselves to Mythal were more trusted so possibly that came into play?” Her question required no answered but silence responded. Cassandra awkwardly shuffled on her feet.

 

“Then.. what happened?” Cassandra caught the elf’s gaze and held it did for a few seconds, until Athelora broke it and looked up to the night sky.

 

“We had drifted slightly apart from the others, we were just talking for such a irresponsible child he was bright and good with stories.” Athelora began to frown. “It was my fault.. we were approached by a bear, twice the size of any I had seen before. The beast lunged at Felhen.” Cassandra gasped slightly. “However luckily I managed to push him away, we fell against the fall and I-I screamed at him to run away. I thought- Maybe I don’t know- I thought I was to die that day. By Mythal’s choice I was spared, it scraped my throat and I pushed against its belly with a burst of fire.” She began to rub the scar. “The rest of the clan came back to save me, Felhen had alerted them and they managed to kill it.”

 

Her head fell into her knees and she clutched it painfully as the memory burned in her mind. No one spoke. No one dared to.

 

As the silence soon turned less tense, Athelora pushed herself against the bench she once sat on and dusted herself gently. She watched Varric finish his writing and yawn both hands behind the back of his head contently. Cassandra was currently walking back to her tent with a hunched back as she dragged her equipment against the rough earth. And finally Solas, who was glazing a hand over the book to his right. However he must’ve felt her gaze as he looked up at her through the burning fire. Rather than coming of as intimidating as he once had before his eyes were full of sympathy. She merely smiled at him and nodded lightly as she trudged back to her personal tent.

 

God she was exhausted.


End file.
